Missing Susie
by Smoltenica
Summary: Based on 'The Lovely Bones' by Alice Sebold. Susie may have been watching her family from heaven, but even the dead can't see the thoughts of the living.
1. Lindsey: Goodnight

_I don't know why I'm doing this, but this is an un-betad fic and in a completely new category. Please R&R and tell me how this could be improved, because I know it can be- and a lot. If need be, this fic will be taken down and renovated at a future date. _

My name is Lindsey- last name, Salmon, like the fish. I was twelve the day my sister was murdered, on December 6th 1973. I didn't think she'd been murdered at first. Would anyone ever think that?

It was dark, and it was raining. I thought she'd gotten lost. But Susie was good with directions. Most likely she'd seen Clarissa, or Ray, and had decided to drop by their house.

Nobody ever thinks that death will touch them. Nobody ever thinks that the unbelievable can actually be believable.

I waited at home. I was reading Henry James' "Portrait of a Lady". I didn't really understand it, but I knew it was a good book, and I knew that it made me special. It set me apart from the others- I was, after all, gifted. What I didn't tell anyone was that I was secretly waiting for Susie. I was waiting for my big sister.

Here's one of the things that you never want to say to anyone, one of the things you never really want to believe. But out of my mother, my father and my brother, I probably loved Susie the most. I wouldn't tell anyone, least of all Susie, but I think that- at the time- that was true. There are things you can share with a sister that you can't share with a mother or a father, or a little brother who doesn't even understand the meaning of death. Not that I really understood death- not until Susie was gone- but I understood it enough. At least, that's what I thought.

I waited and waited, but she never came home. I pretended that I didn't care- sisters always pretend, they're experts at it- but all the while I felt something wasn't quite right. Surely Susie would have rung us if she'd just gone to Clarissa's or Ray's? And if not- she wouldn't be this late, would she? Even if she'd taken the long route she should be back by now.

But she never came.

That night, I lay in bed, hoping that it was just a mistake, or best still, a dream. But I knew that it wasn't a dream, and I knew that it wasn't just a mistake. Susie hadn't come home. And she hadn't run away. And she hadn't sent us word. And she was- she was my big sister, she _had _to come! She couldn't leave me, not here, not now. Not Susie.

_Please, Susie, please come back, _I thought.

Mum came and sat with me for half an hour. She just sat. She didn't say anything, didn't hold my hand, she just looked at me once, and I saw her face was pale and stretched with fear. Then she got up and left, and it was as though she had never come in the first place.

I waited for sleep to come. I don't know when it came, but it did, and when I woke,

I felt guilty that I had slept.

As the days passed by, my hopes died.

I'd always had Susie to lean on, even if I wouldn't admit it to anyone. I'd always had Susie to look up to, to whisper secrets to. I'd always had Susie to tease, to ignore, to fight with. And now I had no one but Buckley, and Buckley- well, he was too young to understand what death meant. I had to comfort him, hadn't I?

I wanted to hate Susie. Hate is more comforting than loss. Hate makes up for the pain and loss. Hating Susie meant that I could blame her for my pain, for Mum's pain, Dad's pain, for poor Buckley. I wanted to hate her so much.

But I couldn't bring myself to. I loved- love- her too much.

Goodnight, Susie, I thought as I undressed and climbed into bed that night. Goodnight wherever you are.

As I leaned over to turn out my bed lamp, I was sure I heard Susie, somewhere in the world. She was whispering.

_Goodnight, Lindsey. _


	2. Buckley: Sometimes

Buckley: Sometimes

_Susie. _

A small face, blonde hair, laughter. Someone pressing a kiss to my forehead.

It's not Mum, and it's not Lindsey.

"_It's Susie." _

That's what Lindsey said when I asked her.

Susie.

She was my big sister. I don't really remember her, but I know her. Sometimes I get angry with her for leaving, but someday she'll come back.

I once said that to Lindsey, and she choked back a sob and started to yell at me. Dad looked almost scared and told her to be quiet, and Mum got angry with her, saying that she shouldn't treat me like that.

_Dead. _

I heard a person say that once. He was big, and he scared me. Lindsey didn't like him, either.

What was dead? I didn't know. Dad said to me that Susie was gone and wouldn't come back. But people always came back.

Sometimes I think about the little silver shoe. That was Susie's playing piece. I had it for a while, to try and remember her, but then it went missing. I don't know where it went, but I think I know…

I tried to tell Lindsey, but she just looked very frightened and almost angry, and I decided not to say.

_Susie. _

Sometimes I say her name to myself, over and over, just to make sure I don't forget, even if I never really remembered in the first place. Or do I? I don't know, and I don't want to know.

Maybe Mum could tell me, but she's gone, too. Did she leave because of me, or did she leave because of Susie?

Susie was good, though, Lindsey once told me. So it must have been me.

I want to hate Mum and I want to hate Susie, but I can't. I want them to be here with me.

Sometimes, though, when I'm good, after Dad's tucked me into bed, I can almost pretend that Grandma Lynn is Mum. Sometimes she lets me pretend, too.

Sometimes, when I'm good, Lindsey will come in and sit by me. Sometimes she'll even talk.

Sometimes, when I'm good, I can hear Susie come into the room. She sits by my bed and she gives me a kiss, and she's gone in the morning. But she comes.

Sometimes.

---

_A/N: I said I'd almost definitely continue, and I'm true to my word. Half a year late, perhaps, but still… _

_I'm sorry if there are any heinous grammatical errors, etc, or if this seems unrealistic- this is rather a first draft, as neither of my betas appears to know 'The Lovely Bones'. sniff _

_Anyhoo, please review if you managed to get this far.  _


	3. Jack: Sinking Ships

I remember standing over a wooden table, putting ships into bottles. I remember hearing you clap with glee- _"Show me, Daddy, show me again!"_

I can see your face. I can hear your laugh.

"_Come here, Susie, I'll show you." _

How your eyes lit up with joy! They won't light up again.

Instead of seeing you sleeping at night, your body curled up under your blankets, I see you cold and still, lying in your own blood.

Oh, Susie, what I'd do to have you back!

You were my first child, my little girl. I remember when I first cradled you in my arms. How fragile you were. How it felt that I was holding magic.

Why is it that we humans can't let perfection last forever?

I wish now that I could disappear, find you in the dark. I'd hold you to me, tightly, and I'd never let you go. I'd tell you I love you, with all my heart.

But I can't.

Each day, I'm reminded that all I have of you is a forearm, severed at the elbow.

_Susie._

I promise you that I won't fail. I'll find your murderer; I swear it on my grave. No matter what it takes, I'll track him down. And when I find him, he'll wish he'd never been born.

I promise you, Susie, my darling - _I will find him. _

_A/N: An update! I'm so sorry for not updating for so long, I've been… busy? _

_Thanks to fledge who helped look over this and smooth out inconsistencies and grammatical errors, and to Sandsagent who reminded me that people are actually reading this fic (although it took me an age to write this)!_

_God bless!_


	4. Abigail: Searching

**Abigail: Searching**

"_Lindsey!" _

I jerk and turn around.

Susie, my darling, oh, Susie, where are you? I heard you call, where are you?

"Lindsey!"

A girl with blonde hair barrels past me, but her hair is too long, her features too pointed. I can feel my heart twist- I already know it isn't you. I always knew it wasn't you.

_Susie. _

Oh God, Susie, where are you? Nothing's the same anymore.

I failed. I failed you.

A mother, living to see her daughter's funeral! God, how insane! It's fucked up, that's what it is.

Can you see me, wherever you are?

I'm sorry for leaving. I _had _to leave. I couldn't say there, I couldn't- not _without _you. Not without my little girl. Can you forgive me, Susie?

I used to watch you and Lindsey play together, stringing plastic cups and running through the hallways. God, I was jealous! Now I can't face Lindsey anymore, I can't face Buckley, I can't face Jack.

_I failed you. _

"Anna!"

I turn around.

A girl is playing in the sandpit. She wears a cotton summer dress. You used to wear dresses like that, do you remember?

I remember.

I remember those summer nights, all those long years ago. How you would stand out on the porch, as the storm raged on. How you were _invincible. _

Invincible! Invincible enough to die! A small, bloodied elbow, peeking out of the ground- no, no, I won't go there, I mustn't go there.

"Buckley!"

A girl's voice. Laughter. Too high pitched.

Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look, the memories come flooding back to me.

_You'll never leave us, Ocean Eyes. _

_Where's Susie?_

I snuff out my cigarette and leave the park. I can't stay here anymore- there are too many children, too many girls, and all of them are wrong.

-

_A/N: Just found this bit of drabble on my computer and thought, "Hey, why not?" So it's part of this story, now. Hope that whoever's reading enjoys it. _


	5. Ruth: Finding a Way

Ruth: Finding A Way

I like to think I am something of a celebrity in the world of the dead.

I once tried to intimate the thought to Ray, but he didn't seem to want to hear it, so I said nothing. But I know that the dead are here. I know that there are girls who have died- been raped, been murdered- and who have been trying to send us messages from above. I've known it since the night in the field. I _felt _Susie's presence, leaving the Earth. And I know she's been trying to communicate with us ever since.

It is my duty, I believe; this is the task I was called to. To soothe the souls of those who have died, and- if possible- to reconnect the world of the living and the dead. It _must _be possible. There must be a way. I know that if I mention this to Lindsay, she would shake her head- she has been trying to break away from her sister for years, with varying levels of success. I know that if I mention this to Ray, and I fail, he will never forgive me- he still loves Susie, has loved her for years- his childhood sweetheart who never had the chance to live. But I know that I must try. There must be a way.

I sit cautiously on the ground, open my notepad. Something about this reserve is calling to me; a voice, a whisper, that yearns to be heard.

_Here, here! I was here! _

It is distant, almost imperceptible. But it is there.

… _Ruth… _

I start.

They know my name.

I scan the area- the trees, filtering the sunlight to rest on the shrubs, the overgrown grass, the scattered flowers. All is silent.

Then I feel it.

A movement, almost like the wind- only there is no wind today. It is so like what I felt that night, when Susie was leaving- but it isn't her. I know her touch.

I stare ahead.

_Ruth!_

I see the hem of a skirt swishing and vanishing behind a tree. A trail of hair, streaming in the wind. Then nothing.

_Young girl. 16-20? _I write. _Long hair- possibly brown- loose. Wearing a skirt. Disappeared in the grove, Reed Reserve. _

The dead are communicating with me. They're leaving messages on Earth.

But then I realise; it isn't really communication.

The dead can't ever come here, truly, not while I am here; one of us must always be in the other realm. And until then, any interaction can only be messages left by one side- whispers, lost on all those who are deaf. All those, except people like me. It is the way of the world.

Suddenly I sit up straight.

I know what to do.

-

_A/N: Sorry, this is totally un-betad. I just wrote it on a spur. Kudos to those who can place where this occurs in the book- your reward may just be another chapter! (Depending, of course, on how the creative juices are flowing.)_

_I hope that you enjoyed this, at least a smidgen of it- but if you didn't, please leave a review saying why. I'd really appreciate that._

_Anyhoo, God bless! _


	6. Ray: Disoriented

**Disoriented **

I know you are there, Susie Salmon.

Sometimes I still see you in my mind, you know- beautiful, shy, forever fourteen. Your blue eyes- I used to swear they held the world and all its mysteries within- gazing into mine, filling my entire being.

It is, therefore, somewhat strange to know that I have made love to you when you were (should have been) dead. I have made love to you in Ruth's body.

Do you have any idea how strange that is for me?

Ruth laughs and tells me that it is nothing to the strangeness she knows. She tells me of her 'heaven', of the names of all the girls she has met. She pulls out her notebook and points me to the stories she has recorded, the promises she has made.

"I'm a celebrity," she tells me, matter-of-factly, "and a story writer. I've helped give Susie part of the ending she wanted."

She looks at me then. It is- uncomfortable. I do not wish to tell her that I have kissed her collarbone, rested my head between her breasts, let her hands tangle themselves in my hair. She is Ruth, for God's sake. I still remember telling her she was entirely screwed up for saying we could pretend she was you. But now- as screwed up as it is, she's more right about it than I was. God Susie, you have me making concessions to Ruth. I think she's still gleeful about it.

Susie, you just had to come and confuse my life once more. When you left the first time- oh God, I was in agony. I couldn't grieve like your own family, with whom you had shared the years and the hours, whom you had loved so deeply and shared so much with. Me- well, we had wanted to share mysteries, secrets, but then you left, and a part of me was cut short, lost to the wind.

So I tried to live. When the police came to question me, even when they suspected me, I lived. Maybe not passionately, or happily, but I lived. When I found med school, Penn, my textbooks, I tried to live. Yet even then, each page would and create a small breeze, and it would remind me, ever so distantly, of the kiss we never shared. But it was my life, and I grew accustomed to it.

Now you have come again- and left again- and I am disoriented once more. I know I will see you again, but not the way you left. I'll never see you in that same, beautiful body that never had the chance to grow. Instead, I am left with knowledge of certain things- physical things- that I perhaps did not need to know.

I am disoriented- but it is not like anything I have read in the textbooks. I know of post-traumatic stress disorder, I have studied psychiatry and psychology- and yet, there is nothing- _nothing- _to quite explain this, how I feel, how you make me feel, how you have made me feel over the years.

Oh Susie you strange, beautiful creature. I love you, you know. A part of me always will.

Susie, my Susie- Salmon, like the fish.


End file.
